Over the New Year Holidays and since I’ve been feeling off. Sleep, my new best friend comes often and stays long. Post nasal drip plagues me; if you have it, you know what I’m talking about. This is physical stuff, not me with my usual whiney attitude over losing my husband.
Whenever I hear conversations about allergies, I hear something about winds from Africa and sand. A day at the shore breathing salt air helps tremendously, but my allergies haven’t been this bad since I lived near a coal yard in Chicago.
Of course, it may be the wheat; I eat way too much bread. I read that food allergies trigger other allergies and the foods we crave like bread cause it all basically. Just swell.
My allergy addictions get the best of me in high-stress times like when a bunch of my stuff breaks all at once and my car is one of those broken things. Just before everything broke, I booked a four day trip to St. Thomas when I caught the nice holiday sales. Live music on Water Island by world class performers, do I have to tell you how excited I was?
Light switches in the kitchen and both bathrooms refused to turn off; I took action, turning off the appropriate breakers. Repair could wait. Both toilets started leaking, so I turned off the water to both toilets; all of this happened before Christmas company.
My attitude remained positive; after the holiday I could hire a new handyman. I could get by, but my friend came to have fun and so we drove my car to Fajardo and Ponce, all over the island. The island beauty will grab the air right out of your chest.
Explaining my house problems to my guest humiliated me, but what the hell. If pouring water from a bucket to flush the toilet is too rustic for you, sorry; that wasn’t nearly enough. On the patio, I noticed a steady stream of water from the roof near the water tank that should have dried up with the rain. Goody.
All I wanted to do was to go to sleep, my joints ached and my face felt swollen. My company left early; I found a handyman, slept a couple of days, and then went to the gym. After a few days, I felt well enough to think about driving to Isabela or maybe just go home; I didn’t know.
I felt and heard a pop and my car stopped; I managed to get it off the road. The funny thing about hitting the end of my rope is nobody cared. I wanted to scream or cry or hit something, maybe. Time to inhale deeply, a few more times, since this had to happen after close of business before Three Kings’ Day and I was flying to St. Thomas on Friday, the thirteenth.
One nice thing about being a senior citizen is you’ve had plenty of time to learn how to get over yourself and get on with it. I handled my car problems, went on my trip, where I had a good time until a waitress upwind of me sprayed a cleaning solution in the air that I happen to be allergic to and instantly became wheezing ill. For two days of the trip, I slept like a bear in hibernation.
The night I made it to the concert on Water Island, classical vibrations by talented musicians danced with the dendrites of my neurons. The magic of performance ignited my spirit when I needed it most.
Carlos Jimenex, my car’s fine mechanic had her ready and running on time. I and my stuff are on the mend.
No comments:
Post a Comment